


In the Still of the Night

by MarginalMadness



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Quiet Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1933695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarginalMadness/pseuds/MarginalMadness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being attacked by the Carta, Hawke and merry band of misfits start a trek into the Vimmark Wastelands, only to be forced to make an pitstop at a small inn which only has two rooms for a group of four to share.  How will Fenris and Bethany cope spending the night in such close quarters? Part one can be read as a complete story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Still of the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spadequeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spadequeen/gifts).



> Hawke/Anders very much a secondary pairing in this fic. Part one is fluffy and PG13, Part two will have a much more adult twist to it and I will change the tags and rating accordingly.

When Fenris agreed to follow Hawke on this Maker forsaken venture to find out why the Carta were so intent on killing her, never did he imagine, even after all he had seen in his years with Danarius, and then those with Hawke, he would be faced with such a disagreeable situation. The rain had started almost as soon as they passed through the towering gates of Kirkwall. Light and though to lull them into a false sense of hope it would ease off soon, and then a deluge of almost apocalyptic magnitude as soon as they were too far from the city to consider tuning back.

The clouds hovered low over the Vimmark Mountains; their way shrouded in mist as they slowly made their way through the mountain pass onto the wastelands beyond.  Hawke and Bethany, who had been given leave of the circle to investigate these attacks wore thick cloaks, which provided no protection against the rain and were now so saturated with water, the extra weight was in fact a hindrance to them. Both he and Ander wore no such cloak, and he had to keep his smirk in order at the sight of the abomination’s ridiculous water-logged feathered pauldrons.

Bethany slipped in the mud which covered the treacherous uphill path. Fenris could read the swear falling from her lips but the pounding of the rain drown it out.  He held out a hand to help her up, which she took with a small grateful smile, her hair plastered to her face and a small blush spreading over her cheeks, Fenris was sure to do with the chill of being out in the rain.

Hawke, at the head of the group stopped, turning to point up, into the clouds. She shouted something but it could not be heard. Instinctively Fenris reached for the hilt of his great sword, but at the shaking of her head he lowered his hand, instead using it to push the hair out of his eyes and shield them as much as possible from the rain.  She pointed again, and as though the Maker himself had taken pity on them the rain, which had beaten against them for hours began to ease and the mist began to this and spread, a small inn appeared, nestles against a cliff face, at the very crest of the mountain pass. Smoke rose from the chimney and lights shone behind dirty glass.

Fenris had never been so happy to discover a questionable inn, in all of his remembering.

He watched as Hawke made her way through the quagmire of mud with renewed vigour, the rest of the group following her lead and pushing on after her, the possibility of getting dry and filling their stomachs with a hot meal solidifying their determination. He stayed at the back of the group, lest Bethany slip again and slide all the way back to Kirkwall.

 

 

The Inn was familiar in a way that made Hawke feel at home, as though she had just walked through the doors of the Hanged Man.  Same sort of crowd sitting at the tables, sharing the same rowdy banter, although the inn was smaller, less crowded and it smelled infinitely cleaner than her favourite watering hole.

She made her way towards the bar, weaving through the table, trying and failing to not cover everyone she passed in the water dripping from her sodden cloak. “Three rooms,” she called to the Innkeeper as he glanced their way, “one double.”

The innkeeper was a tall, powerfully built man, with thick, wavy, dark hair, streaked with silver and a beard to match, he eyed them and their weapons warily, as though evaluating how likely they were to start trouble and Hawke smiled at him innocently, trying to make her body language as benign as possible, while dressed in leather armour and armed to the nines.  The Innkeeper shrugged and shook his head regretfully, never slowing in his task of filling mugs of ale for the drinkers at the bar. “We got two. Both doubles take it or leave it.”

Hawke winced at his words, imagining she heard the snap of two heads swivelling to look at her, feeling the prickle of the twin glares burning into the back of her head. She smiled ruefully at the Innkeeper who was still watching the rest of her group out of the corner of his eye, and gave a shrug. “I guess we’ll take them, then.” She rummaged under her dripping cloak and pulled out a small waterproof, leather purse, holding it up for him to see before throwing it across the bar, which he caught and pocketed with one hand.

“Mags’ll be around in a sec to show you to your rooms.” He said, with a forced smile before turning back to the rabble at the bar.

Hawke slowly turned, already knowing what she was to be faced with and it was nothing compared to darkspawn, Carta assassins or mythical ancient rock monsters. She took a deep breath as she came face to face with three identical glares.  Anders and Fenris were equally as angry, they knew she was already planning on sharing with Bethany, and letting the boys share.  Although Fenris wasn’t hostile towards her sister an any way she still didn’t think he’d feel comfortable sharing a bed with her and Anders scared Bethany, she had often said that Anders was far too fanatical for her liking, and it made her uncomfortable. 

She turned to her sister and found her gaze to be far more pleading than angry. Her eyes flicked towards to Anders and Hawke read the meaning loud and clear. Don’t make me share with Anders.

Hawke forced her own charming smile, “Well, Anders, Fenris I guess you’ll-” she started.

“No.” “You’ll have to make me Tranquil first.” They spat simultaneously.

“-not want to share.” Hawke finished lamely.  

Bethany looked stricken, a blush creeping up her face. Anders unnerved her, or more accurately, Justice did. She didn’t particularly want to share a room with him.  She snuck a glance at Fenris, trying not to become too entranced by the rivulets of water running from his hair under his tunic. She and Fenris had never been particularly close, but he was always polite to her, complementary even and he had never subjected her to the scorn he frequently showered Anders and Merrill with.

 

Anders moved quickly, to stand by Hawkes side, splashing water droplets from his robes in all directions whenever he moved. “Fenris and Bethany can share.” He said with an air of forced good humour, possessively wrapping an arm around Hawkes waist.  He leaned in and whispered something in her ear which made her blush and cough and left Anders with a smirk on his lips as he regarded Bethany and Fenris.

“I mean- um- if both Fenris and Bethany are okay with that.” Hawke stammered, as Anders hand subtly moved down her waist.

“I suppose, we don’t have any choice.” Bethany croaked. Her mouth had suddenly become very dry and her cheeks were blushing so furiously she should almost feel the moisture of the rain evaporating right from her skin in curls of steam.

“It will be fine.” Fenris agreed with a curt nod, his tone decidedly neutral and oh, how Bethany wished he would give something away.

The satisfied smile Anders wore was only matched by the glower Fenris, sent him in return.  In truth Fenris held no animosity towards the younger Hawke, in fact he quite admired her, he only wished to avoid making her uncomfortable, but if the way she fiddled with her saturated cloak was any indication and the way she kept putting a hand to her flushed cheeks, he had failed.

The group stood in awkward silence for a few moments, with only Anders appearing pleased with the finalised sleeping arrangement.  Fortunately their discomfort was interrupted by a short, round elderly woman with wiry, white hair pulled up into a bun, pushing her way through the crowd. “Yous for the rooms then?” She asked with cackle that would have been intimidating if it were not infused with such warmth, before giving them the once over and almost bending over backwards with a great hoot of laughter, throwing her hands in the air before clapping them together cheerfully.“Andrastes agreat saggy tits, looka the state of yeh! Bernie! Looka them!”

The Innkepper, cocked an eyebrow and nodded his head in acknowledgement with a slight roll of his eye before doing back to his bar keeping duties.

“My son aint gota no sense of humour, I tell yeh!” She said croakingly, moving toward the stairs opposite the bar. She motioned with her hand “Well, follow me athen, up the stairs.” She lead them through the small crowd of drinkers and up a set of uneven, yet somehow sturdy stairs. Reaching the top she pointed a thin, boney finger at a door at the very end of a short corridor. “Now, theres is a bathing room at the end of this here corridor.” She explained “Yous’ll be sharing with the other travellers, so make sure you knock first, loves, there’sa no lock.” The right side of the corridor held three doors, almost impossibly close together, the rooms behind them must have been mere closets. The left side held only two.  Mags, opened the first door and held her hand out as if presenting it, “It’sa small, granted, but it’sa clean, an’ it’sa dry.” She took two small steps and opened the second door “Room, two.” She said with a little bow, wisps of white hair falling about her face. “Now the walls is thin, so no hanky-panky unless yousa comfortable with the entire building aknowing.” She winked at Anders, who blinked rapidly before attempting to say something in his defence. “Ah, now, laddie.” She smiled, squeezing past them in the cramped corridor, giving him a pat on the forearm. “Ano shame in it,” she said with a smile and a shake of her head “ano shame in it.” She continued to mutter to herself as she waddled down the stairs, leaving the group stunned into awkward silence.

The four of them stood around uncomfortably, both Hawkes suddenly finding their feel incredibly interesting and Fenris glaring at Ander as though he should just kill him now and save Hawke from being unnecessarily fondled by the abomination before he remembered that Hawke liked, even loved the abomination and would not thank him for such an action.  He looked to Bethany who was peeking up at him from lowered lashes and he clenched his fist tightly as something with no name ached in his stomach. He motioned with his chin and Bethany took the hint.

“We’ll take this one.” She said, ducking into the room closest the stairs, throwing a look over her shoulder as Fenris followed her in and scowled at the tiny room as though his glowering and displeasure itself would somehow be enough to make the room magically increase in size. He would probably rip it to bits with his bare hands if it did.

The room consisted of a small entryway where the chimney stack ran through it and opened to reveal a low, wooden, double bed, fitted with off-white, yet seemingly clean bedding in the middle of it, the space either side, barely big enough for Bethany to stand in. The singular window was large, taking up most of the wall and had wooden shutters closed against it, keeping in rain out and there were three hooks in the wall opposite the bed and that was it.

It was tiny.

If Bethany held out her arms at her sides, she would almost be able to brush the walls on each side. If Fenris stood at the bottom of the bed with his sword out he would surely stab anyone standing in the doorway. And she had to stay in the tiny room with him…alone…all night…alone. The thought of being in such close proximity to him make her stomach twist and she was sure that the blush colouring her cheek was probably permanent at this point.

She was pulled from her reverie by the sound of rattling coming from the doorway.

“I gots some astew for yous,” Mags smiled, with a gap toothed grin, offering them the tray, which while the contents rattled, seemed surprisingly steady in her frail looking hands. Bethany took two of the four bowls from the tray and passed one to Fenris and took it with a nod of thanks, and if either of them saw her almost drop either bowl when his fingers accidentally grazed hers she would blame it on the cold, wet clothes she was still wearing. “an some adry clothes.” Mags said, almost as if reading Bethany’s mind, dropping a small, neatly tied bundle on the bed. “I’ll be aback soon, for yous wets.”

Bethany and Fenris smiled politely and nodded as she turned and trotted out of the room, heading next door, with her tray and a second bundle of dry clothes in her hand.

Bethany bought a spoonful of stew to her lips, blowing gently to cool it; it smelt heavenly, large chunks of meat and potatoes floating around her bowl.  She ate the first bite carefully, moaning and closing her eyes in delight as the rich flavours crossed her palate. “This is so good.” She announced, to the room more than to find Fenris who watching her, wearing a strange expression. “Sorry.” She blushed, licking her lips. (Could she actually blush anymore or were her cheeks permanently flaming?) “The food in the gallows is so bland, nutritious enough, I guess but still. I haven’t had anything this good since…” She stopped, the last time she’d eaten something this delicious, it had been prepared by her mother and the pain of her loss, was still recent enough to sting when she thought about it.  But she didn’t have to finish, Fenris could tell by the darkening of her expression, the direction her thoughts had taken.

“Let me.” He said holding out his hand to take her bowl.  Bethany looked confused for a second and Fenris resisted the urge to smile at she pulled the bowl ever so slightly closer to her, a small petulant pout playing about her lips. “The old maid said she would return soon. You should divest yourself of your cloak and wet clothes.”  A sudden flash on understanding crossed Bethany’s face and she looked something akin to sheepish and if that didn’t just make Fenris want to smile all the more, he would never voice it.

She passed him her bowl and Fenris frowned as a pang of something akin to regret, shot through him at the lack of accidental contact between their fingers.  Bethany removed her cloak next, placing it on one of the hooks, taking care not to let it touch the bed as it was still quite wet. She picked up the bundle holding it awkwardly in her arms, gaving him a significant look and now it was his turn to look sheepish.  He turned from her, facing the wall, choosing a spot and focusing on it with such intensity, he was almost positive he would remember that exact spot of wall for the rest of his days and did his best not to hear the door shut softly- they were alone, in private,- or the sound of wet clothes falling to the floor, -Bethany Hawke was very probably naked not six feet from where he stood.

After what seemed like an eternity, and after he’d thought of no less than seventeen different ways for Hawke to kill him, each one more horrific than the last, Bethany coughed awkwardly.  “Done.” She said in a small voice.

He turned; ready to hand back her bowl before the sight of her, standing before him looking so vulnerable caused him to stop abruptly. His hands tightened on the bowls. The nightdress was simple, reminiscent in style of that which her mother wore, when they lived in Lowtown, it was white and draped beautifully, the just sheer enough that the lanterns which lit the room hinted at full curved, hidden beneath the fabric.  The cut left her shoulders and graceful neck exposed and he got lost image of him pushing her against the wall, lips working across those shoulders, the sounds she would make when his teeth gently bit down on the juncture between- and then he remembered possibility number fifteen; skinned alive. He shook his head, dismissing the thought and passed her, her bowl without a word, once again ignoring the pang of regret that came with no accidental contact.

 

Bethany watched Fenris. Upon turning his eyes widened minutely, lips parted as thought to speak, but not a word was said, his gaze travelled up her body, lingering on her hips and her neck, there was something in his gaze which was normally so guarded, hidden behind a scowl, which made her breath catch...and then it was gone.  He handed her, her bowl and she took it with a small smile of thanks, no longer as excited to eat as she had been.

There was a quiet knock at the door and before Bethany could answer, Fenris hastily called out.

“Come in.”

“Ah good.” Mags said with an arm full of wet garments, apparently heedless of the fact they were soaking through her own clothes. Seeing Bethany changed, she bent down to pick up the discarded robes but Bethany stooped down to help her, piling them up into the older woman’s arms. “Whats about you, laddy?” Mag’s asked Fenris, motioning with her chin to his still dripping armour and the puddle that was forming under his feet.

“I’m fine.” He said harshly, picking up his foot and giving it a shake, intently not looking at the new wet patch of nightdress, clinging to Bethany’s hip. “But I,” he swallowed audibly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor, “appreciate the gesture.”

“Suit, yourself laddy.” She shrugged, taking Bethany’s cloak from the hook, and taking the unwanted change of clothes from the bed , Elbowing Bethany in the side on the way out, muttering “You gots yourself a stubborn one athere.” Bethany spluttered and flushed and tried to correct her,  but she pulled the door closed and they were once more left alone, both of their faces burning.

 

The rain had continued to lighten outside and now couldn’t be heard raining down on the shutters at all.

“We should let some air in.” Bethany suggested, hoping the cool air would help calm the blush on her cheeks and taking half a step towards him before halting, unconsciously licking her lips as she watched a drop of water run down his throat, disappearing beneath his tunic. Fenris; apparently unaware of Bethany’s frazzled composure, simply nodded, turning to push the shutters open wide and taking a deep breath of fresh, mountain air, trying to banish the image of the blush creeping across Bethany’s chest.  Behind him, Bethany’s eyes travelled down his back, his tunic was made of rigid material, but his leggings clung to every inch of his muscular legs, the definition exaggerated thanks to being soaked from the rain. She drank in the sight of his strong thighs, the definition  of his calves and even though it was mostly obscured by the great sword still on his back you could make out the curve of his-

She turned away abruptly, sitting on the edge of the bed, very intently staring forward, and ate the now cold stew in her hand without even tasting it, only focused on controlling her breathing and slowing down her  pounding heart, which she was sure could be heard in the excruciating silence of the room.

 

Fenris stood by the window not eating his own stew but stirring it distractedly, letting the cool air wash over him, erasing the imagined feel of her touch. It wasn’t until the breeze cleared the stuffiness and smell of damp from the room that he realised the room smelt of something intrinsically Bethany, something like soap and wild flowers and-fittingly enough- sunshine.  The light wind pushed he last of the clouds away and room was filled with the warm orange glow of the setting sun.

“It seems the rain has passed.” Fenris stated in an attempt to start a conversation and make Bethany feel more comfortable. Maybe that would put an end to the painfully awkward silence. Unlike Hawke, who had the gift of pulling you into an easy conversation, willing or not, Bethany, was much more accustom to hiding and staying out of the centre of attention. He had observed over the year they spent with her sister, that she often let Hawke take the lead in conversations, and even within Hawke’s group of comrades rarely made the first move to start the conversation. Varric and Isabela were usually the best at bringing her out of her shell but it seemed that even now, with only himself, she found his conversational skills lacking as she hadn’t made any move to acknowledge what he said.  He turned away from the window, to inquire she was alright and he found her watching him, eyes wide.

Bethany couldn’t breathe. As the clouds parted, the room filled with warm orange light, and she blinked towards the window, only to find Fenris practically glowing in the rays of the setting sun. The light danced over his lyrium marking, making them shimmer in a way they had no right to do, in the mortal world. His snowy white hair diffused the light, giving him a glowing, golden halo about his head.  Bethany could feel her heart, once again begin to race, she had always found Fenris handsome, but now…She shook her head, realising he not only been watching her but he had also been talking to her.

“Sorry?”

Fenris watched her carefully before, repeating his words. “I said it seems the rain has passed.”

“Good thing too, I should say.”  She said turning back to her bowl, pushing the contents around with the spoon, her stomach in too much of a tumultuous knot to eat anything further. “We still have a ways to go before we reach the wastelands.” She paused and sighed. “Marian will want to start early. We should get to sleep.” She eyed the bed warily. Turning back to Fenris, she frowned. “Your armour is soaking.”

Fenris frowned in return before following where her thought had travelled. “I shall rest on the floor.” He said simply as if was the obvious solution.

“Fenris, don’t be-” Bethany started to argue but he cut her off.

“I am accustomed to sleeping in much worse locations than a wooden floor, Bethany.”

“Just because you’re _accustomed_ ,” she emphasised the word. “Doesn’t mean you have to when there is a bed that is perfectly big enough for the two of us to share.” She argued, but there was no heat in it, she could already tell by the set of his shoulders his mind was made up.  They regarded each other in silence for a few moments, both thinking the other ridiculous. “And how do you propose to sleep on a floor with no space on it?”

He carefully took the bowl from her hands, setting it on the window sill, and then - even with her sitting on it- he moved the bed until it was flush against the chimney wall, like it was nothing. The space between the bed and the wall had now doubled but it still didn’t look like he would fit…at least not comfortably.  She watched him with an unimpressed set to her mouth as he removed his sword, propping it up in the corner by the window, and then his gauntlets, vambrace and pauldrons were neatly stacked with it, until it was just him in his soaked, leggings and tunic. Bethany expression never changed; yes she was very impressed with how comfortable he was making himself.  She nodded in submission and pushed her way up the bed, and made herself comfortable, lying down on the side against the wall. Fenris disappeared down the side of the bed.

She lay there, trying not to imagine what it would be like to lie beside him.  To feel the warmth that radiated from him, how it would feel to be tucked up under his arm, face pressed to his chest, the smell of leather and oil and that other thing, that she couldn’t identify she just knew as _Fenris_.

After a few moments, Bethany rolled over to the opposite side of the bed, sneaking a peek over the side. Fenris was very literally wedged in the space by the side of the bed, his shoulders visibly hunched while trying to fit in the too small space. His hands were folded over his middle, almost serenely but his closed eyes were scowling at whatever image lingered behind them. He looked for all intents and purposes as though he was in a coffin, being laid to rest after being deemed unworthy to be put to a funeral pyre and go to the Maker’s side. The thought made her it make her stomach twist and she didn’t like it.  She eyed the pillow that was to be his, which was going unused and reached for it. She carefully held it out over his head…and dropped it.

His hand moved so swiftly it was a blur before her eyes, but he caught the pillow easily in his hand before it fell more than three inches.

One eye slowly cracked open, observing her with a wry twist of his mouth. Bethany had the grace to blush, flopping back onto her side of the bed. “It’s your pillow.” She mumbled, suddenly feeling very foolish; for dropping the pillow and maybe a little bit because she just wanted his attention, on some level. Maybe.

“You have my thanks.” Fenris replied. She could tell by the amusement laced through his tone he was laughing at her.

She lay there in silence, curled up on her side, watching out the window as one by one the stars became visible in the slowly darkening sky.  Her eyes kept drifting down to gap by the bed and she listened carefully as Fenris’ breathing became a slow, soothing measure in the background noise of the room. Once she was certain he was asleep she leaned over once more and peeked over the edge of the bed again, just to catching him as he opened his eyes.

“Tell me, Bethany,” he drawled, “do you intend to watch me sleep all night?” His voice held an edge to it, which wasn’t quite anger.  Frustration maybe?

“No!” Bethany barked as though startled. “I mean…that just…”She struggled to find some explanation.”…doesn’t look…comfortable.”

“As I said, I’ve slept in less comfortable places.” He said casually, shuffling into a more comfortable position. “And besides, I have a pillow now.” His eyes twinkled.

“Fine.” She sighed, finally giving in. “Have it your way.”  She flopped back on the bed, the room becoming too warm to sleep under the covers. The chirping of mountain bugs filled the air with a soothing buzz she hadn’t heard since they left Fereldan. The stars shone in earnest now, and Bethany watched them slowly move across the sky, until sleep finally overcame her.

She drifted off into the fade to dreams of Lothering and dark haired twins, with bright green eyes.

 

* * *

The bed jerked suddenly, and with nowhere to go it shook loudly against the chimney wall.  Bethany was pulled from the fade with a start.  She panicked, coming awake suddenly and not knowing where she was, searching around in alarm for her staff, a bright ball of flame springing to life in her hand before she remembered the inn and the room and – Fenris! The ruckus was coming from down the side of the bed and she scrambled over the mattress to find Fenris’ writhing and twisting in agony, his back arching painfully up off the ground, his eyes screwed shut but even then tears still managed to spill from them.  He growled, low and terrible, like a wounded animal that was trying to hold its ground, yet knew it was about to die. His hands alternating between fists and clawing a the sides of the constricted space, his markings flashing in ripples, glowing and fading as though lightening danced across his skin.

“Fenris?” She whispered cautiously, but there was no response. “Fenris.” She called again, louder, firmer but still he didn’t respond. She knew it was risky but she could think of nothing else to do, she reached out to touch him, a gentle shake to rouse him from his nightmare, but as soon as she reached out her hand, his much larger one, wrapped around her wrist halting her abruptly, the grip painfully tight. She whimpered and tried to pull her hand back but found she could not move.

Looking down at the man who held her so securely, she found Fenris staring up at her, his eyes hard and cold, and dangerous in a way they hadn’t been since they first met. She did not know the man behind those eyes and he scared her.

She didn’t struggle; forcing her arm to relax and smiling at him as reassuringly as she could. “Fenris? It’s Bethany.” She said calmly as she could muster. “You had a nightmare.” Something flashed in his eyes and the grip tightened imperceptibly. “It’s ok now, you’re awake. You’re safe. Do you remember where you are?” His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits and Bethany realised that if there was anything of Fenris that was aware right now, asking him what he remembered may not be the most delicate of questions. She carefully tried to extricate herself from his grip again, but he tightened another fraction and she gasped as she felt the delicate bones in her wrist begin to break under his hold.

His eyes widened and released her wrist as quickly as he had grasped it and she pulled it back, cradling it to her chest as she channelled healing magic into it. Moments later she could feel the bones mending and the bruises fading. 

Fenris sat up slowly, and Bethany could see the sweat, gathered on his brow, a faint tremble in his shoulders and hands as he pushed hair that had become plastered to his forehead back off of his face.  She ached to reach out and touch him, to try and offer him some sort of comfort.

“Come and lie on the bed, Fenris.” She whispered in the moonlight, which was now flooding through the open window and shifted back to the opposite side of the mattress. He turned to look at her, eyes haunted and apologetic. She expected him to argue but instead he lifted himself to sit at the edge, fussing with his tunic until it slipped from one shoulder and he shrugged it off, throwing it in the corner with less care than he had any other item of his armour.

He picked up his pillow and though it was made of lead and placed it back onto the bed.  He lay down, on his back, hands behind his head, exposed for the world to see.  Bethany curled up on her side of the bed as close to him as she dare get and tried not to stare openly at his chest or torso, tried not to follow the branching vines that weaved across them with her eyes, or memorise the way they reflected the moonlight. She felt rotten. He’d just experienced something incredibly traumatic, intimately personal and here she was eyeing him up like a piece of meat.  She buried her face in pillow, trying to think of something, anything else, to distract her from the indecent thoughts running through her head. She focused on controlling her breathing which was becoming erratic, and the tickle in her stomach at the thought of him being so close and ignoring the heat that pooled between her legs.

Once she regained some of her composure she lay back, head still tilted to the side so she could watch him.  He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, unblinking, for what seemed like an eternity.

“You should sleep, while you still can.” He said softly, his voice was raw, as though he had spent hours screaming.

Bethany didn’t know what to say. She wanted to tell him he could sleep too, that she would be here for him, but she did not think he would appreciate it. The silence stretched on, as she thought of a million things to say, each sounding more empty and useless than the last empty platitude, until in the darkness, in this weird moment of intimacy, something slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

“There’s no shame in having nightmares, Fenris.” Bethany said, eyes shining in the moonlight.

“And what do you know of my nightmares?” The question came out tight, his voice straining, as though the words had to be pulled from him.

“I’m a mage,” her tone implied this was the most obvious answer in the world. “Demons will only spend so long tempting you with the things you want, before they start showing you your worst nightmares. Whispering to you only they can give you the power to stop these things from happening.”

“You can control the fade, can you not?” His voice while still strained became sharp, head snapping sideways to regard her.

“Not all the time.” Bethany whispered, her eyes lowering, and Fenris instantly regretted his harshness, turning on his side to face her directly. “Sometimes what they show you…what they show you is so horrible…that it chills you, right to the core of you, and it’s so hard to…to…block out…everything.  It takes all of your will to just keep saying no. To try not to concentrate on the…on the screaming or…or whatever else they show you.”

She shook her head, wiping the tears on her pillow as a quiet sob escaped her lips. Fenris dared not to speak, nor move, lest he spoil this moment, even though he wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“The worst was after mother died.” She whispered after composing herself. “They showed me her, images of what had been done to her, the place Quentin…where he…on a table next to her, was Marian. I watched my own sister be ripped apart by that monster, I mean I knew he was dead, but there will always be another crazy blood mage, right?

“Horrible…sickening things were done to her. All the while with demons whispering to me I could stop it if I let them in. I couldn’t fight them back, couldn’t stop what I was seeing, couldn’t turn away. I was frozen and I just kept reliving it. Everything in my body itched to help her and it was all I could do to just say no.” Her eyes found his and in place of the previous sadness, there was worry and panic and doubt.  “Until I woke up.” She searched his eyes, looking for disgust or distrust, but could find none. “And that’s what I know of nightmares.”

And then he did something unthinkable.  His hand, reached out for hers, fingers entwining, holding it tightly.

“You are…stronger than I could imagine.” He admitted into the darkness. Bethany squeezed his hand in a silent thank you and in the still of the night, drenched in moonlight, they drifted off to sleep, hand in hand.


	2. The Morning After

Bethany woke the next morning with a content sigh. It was the best night’s sleep she’d had in a while, even the venture into the fade had been absent of demons during her slumber.  She arched her spine, stretching out sleepy muscles when she suddenly came into contact with something very warm and very solid.  Her eyes shot open, panic rising as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings before it all came crashing back; Fenris, their conversation, his hand reaching for hers. Her distress calmed as she remembered where she was, being replaced with something she couldn't identify.

When she had drifted off, she had been facing Fenris, hands clasped by their heads in the middle of the bed, close enough that when he exhaled his breath disturbed her hair. Now however, she found herself enveloped in his arms.  Their hands were still entwined, resting by her breast, and he was tucked up behind her, almost moulded to her body. Bethany’s breath caught in her lungs, every minute movement, exposed another point of contact between their bodies.  If she was honest with herself and she very rarely was when it came to this; she had imagined this scenario more than once, falling asleep with her head pillowed on his chest, waking up exactly like this, feeling warm and safe in his arms. She’d used it as a distraction on the nights where loneliness threatened to become unbearable.

Carefully she tried to extract herself from his arms, slowly sliding her hand free of his. Ever so carefully she tried to slide out of the bed, which was difficult considering she was trapped between Fenris and the wall. Carefully she turned herself to face him, only to find his face inches from her own and his eyes open, watching her.  The look in his eyes caught her unawares and the desire to leave the circle of his arms left Bethany’s body and she relaxed into the bed, regarding Fenris with a look she was sure resembled a startled rabbit.

He was watching her cautiously, his expression guarded, but he had not said a word, not broken eye contact and not lessened his hold on her in the slightest. His mouth hung open by the smallest amount, but it was enough to for Bethany to hear the broken rhythm of his breathing.  There was something about the weight of his arm still comfortably settled around her waist and the pressure of his fingers, gripping her back ever so slightly, as though he wanted to cling to her but was scare if he clung too tightly this dream would shatter and he’d wake up alone. 

She felt emboldened.

She leaned up, passed the hair's breadth of space between them to gently brush her lips over his. Fenris’ eyes fluttered closed and a soft exhale made its way past his lips. Bethany’s heart thudded painfully in her chest, and Fenris remained still, completely unmoving. Fearing she had made an irrevocable mistake she started to apologise, but before she could voice it Fenris’ eyes opened and what burned in them, silenced her words.

He pounced on her then, pushing her up against the wall at her back, his lips firm and demanding against her own.  She gave him everything she had to give, he licked and nibbled at her lips, demanding entrance, which she gladly gave, Fenris swallowing her moan as tongues finally made contact and every cell in her body started to vibrate with pleasure. He pulled her close and twisted until she was pinned beneath him, his comforting weight pressing her into the mattress. A hand wove itself into her ebony locks, his other hand, exploring as much of her body as possible. Her skin was burning to the touch yet as his fingers trailed her waist; even through the material of her tunic, they left goose pimples in their wake.  She fisted her own hand into his hair, hooking a leg up over his hip, pulling him closer, undulating with need against him, accidentally rubbing herself against the growing hardness in his leggings.

They both stilled; lips separating with a gasp. Fenris took a deep, composing breath, resting his forehead against Bethany’s and very carefully, with control he had perfected on the battlefield, extracted himself from Bethany’s hold, lying himself down next to her, propped up on one arm looking down at her. Bethany panicked for only a moment at the loss of contact, hands reaching out to him, before finding his eyes filled with as much desire and want as she felt. She lifted her hands to his face, brushing the soft, white hair out of his eyes, trailing a delicate finger down the bridge of his nose and across his kiss-swollen lips.

He bit the end of her finger playfully, just hard enough to elicit a tiny gasp from her before soothing it with his tongue. His free hand, slid under her night dress, bunching it up around her waist, a finger running slipped under the seam of undergarments, the back of his finger caressing back and forth,  against the inside of her thigh, an eyebrow raised in silent question.

She nodded her assent and then cried out as two deft, calloused fingers slipped inside her, which was quickly swallowed as Fenris took her in another bruising kiss, using the act to stifle his own moan at her slickness as he worked his fingers inside of her.

He pulled back, still close enough his lips brushed hers as he whispered. “Silence. Be mindful of what the old woman said.” Bethany nodded, her lips forming silent words and prayers; his pride bolstered as he could make out most of them were his name, the only audio evidence of Fenris’ ministrations being her slightly more laboured breaths. He added his thumb to the task, teasing the bud of hardness between her folds, and Bethany whimpered, biting her lip to refrain to making more noise, one hand covering his own busy one, guiding Fenris’ to where she needed him most, the other snaked around his arm gripping his shoulder, using it as leverage as she moved and worked herself on his dextrous hand.

In almost no time she was cresting, her thighs closing tight around his hand and she silently shuddered and shook and whispered his name like it was a fervent prayer to the Maker.

As she relaxed against the bed he pulled his hand away, rubbing them together casually examining the way his fingers glistened with the evidence of her release.  Bethany reached up and slid a delicate, shaky finger along his, though the moisture, with a soft huff of laugher and a sigh. Fenris captured her hand, a calloused thumb rubbing along her knuckles and brought her digit to his lips, licking and sucking on the pad of her finger in an indecent way that makes her squirm with desire all over again.

Reluctantly she removes her hand from his grasp, moving it down to fumble with the laces of his leggings. Fenris’ breath hitched as he realises her intent. A large warm hand wrapped around her smaller, trembling one.

“You need not-” he started but she silenced him with a gentle kiss, twisting her hand until she found his laces once more, tugging at them with surer fingers this time.

“I want-” Bethany swallowed, hard and Fenris watched her throat move with rapt fascination. “-want to.” Fenris tilted his head, accepting.

The laces came loose and Bethany pulled at the tight fabric until there was enough slack to slide them part way down Fenris hips. His erection slipped free, proudly straining up against his toned stomach now it was no longer constrained by his breeches and Bethany gasped, biting her lip. Looking up at Fenris she found him staring down at her, studying her face intently. She took his hand, which had settled nonchalantly on her hip, and tangled her fingers with his own, bringing it down to caress the back of their entwined fingers lightly across his length. “Show me.” She whispered, looking deep into his eyes.

Without hesitation Fenris untangled his hand to cup Bethany’s in his own, wrapping it around his erection, moving it in long, slow strokes. He squeezed her hand and she gripped harder, increasing the pressure of her hold. Once she got the rhythm he removed his hand, revelling in the feel of her delicate fingers sliding up and down his shaft. With a twist of her wrist she changed the angle at which her stokes, her palm rubbing over the sensitive head of his hardness and he arched forward with a gasp, burying his head in the crook of her neck, hand tangling into her hair.

Bethany felt his own silent prayers fall from his lips as they were whispered into the hollow of her throat, occasionally punctuated with small kisses or a scrape of his teeth as he thrust earnestly into her hand. All at once, the hand in her hair tightened and Fenris body went taut, hips snapping erratically as he neared his climax.  She could feel broken, opened mouthed panting against her neck as he spilled himself into her hand.  He slumped against her, murmuring unintelligible words against her skin, hand flexing in her hair and Bethany’s body sang.

She’d been trained from a young age to control the forces of nature, fire and ice sprang from her fingertips at her will but nothing had ever made her feel more powerful than Fenris coming apart in her hands. Fenris, who was as controlled and guarded off the battlefield as he was on. Fenris who built walls few got past, who was now whimpering against neck, clinging to her as though she were the most precious thing in creation and he never wanted to let her go; but let her go he did.

Fenris flopped back on the bed, giving them some space to breathe; both of them lay there, panting heavily. Bethany wiped her hand absentmindedly on the sheet under her while got to Fenris tucking himself back into his leggings.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, which swung open without invite causing Fenris and Bethany sat bolt upright. “Are you ready, to get going yet?” Hakwe called, bounding obliviously in in the room. “Carta assassins wait for no one.” She said coming to an abrupt stop by the end of the bed. “Why aren’t you ready? Anders and I heard you up and about ages ago.”

Bethany didn’t know if she should curse the Maker, or thank him her blighted sister didn’t storm into their room a few moments earlier. “We were…” she started, but she couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse, and started pulling at the sheet under her, suddenly feeling very exposed.

“Conversing.” Fenris finished his expression inscrutable, but she threw him a look of gratitude before turning back to her sister, who seemed to buy the lie.  If the smirk on Anders face was anything to go by however, he didn’t.

“Well hurry up and get ready. I want to get whatever this is over with and back to Kirkwall. Frisky mages are cranky mages, if you know what I mean.” Hawke said with an exaggerated tilt of her head to Anders who just kept smirking. “Thin walls and all.”

Bethany almost swallowed her tongue, looking uncomfortable, Fenris stood and retrieved his tunic, throwing Anders a cool glare.

“I’m sure they do understand, love.” Anders said tactfully, smiling at Fenris. “Why don’t we see if the crazy old lady, downstairs has any breakfast for us, leave these two lazy bones too get ready?”

“Excellent idea, I’m famished.” Hawke agreed, turning to leave. “I could eat an entrie Bronto, hooves and all.”

“There’s no shame in it.” Anders added throwing a look over his shoulder as he closed the door. “No shame at all.”

As the door closed, Bethany threw herself backwards, pulling the pillow over her face to hide her flaming red cheeks. “Maker, kill me now.”

“The Maker doesn’t have time to kill you, you need to prepare.” Fenris said and thought she couldn’t see him, his tone seemed intensely serious and that made something in her stomach drop.  She looked out from under the pillow and he stood by the bottom of the bed, arms crossed, looking serious. It seemed whatever they shared this morning was a onetime thing and best forgotten about.  She steeled her nerve as she sat up and shimmied to the bottom of the bed.

“I should probably get ready.” She sighed, not meeting his eye.

“Yes, you should.”

Something in his tone made her glance up and he stood there, watching her, a sparkle in his eye.  Before she could ask why he was looking for her that, he bent down, took her head between his hands and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe.

Bethany had no idea what was going on but a litany of ‘ _yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes’_ ran through her head. He pushed her back against the bed, kneeling at the bottom of it.

“Fenris?” She asked voice breathy. “What are you-?”

“Shhhh, quiet, Bethany.” He smiled, pushing her night gown up as he spread her legs, laying soft butterfly kisses to the inside of her thigh. “As Anders said, it is time for breakfast, and I intend to eat my fill.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than I expected probably because it ended up way longer than expected but I'm happy with how it turned out. Hope you enjoyed :)


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